When a struggling Broadway talent agent reluctantly agrees to represent a male stripper, she finds out there's more to her new client than oiled abs.
Season 1 of Strip in the City
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Today might be the worst day of my life. I just lost my biggest c...
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As far as I knew, there was no instruction manual for how to handle seeing your ex-boyfriend on the arm of another woman at the dinner party your best friend was hosting, but if there was, I could guarantee step one wasn't to punch a bottle of wine onto the ground.
Naomi Loras didn't bat an eye as the caterers rushed to clean the mess, bringing towels and club soda. She simply shrugged and said, "I only needed a glass of Shiraz, baby girl, not the whole bottle."
The sommelier handed her a fresh glass and poured red wine into it.
My brain told me I should laugh this off, but I couldn't make my mouth move, especially not when Tommy kept looking at me with those deep forest green eyes of his. His chin-length brown hair swept back behind his ears. Artful stubble decorating his jaw.
He looked just like I remembered him.
Meanwhile, I was the same disaster I'd always been. The disaster he was ultimately too cool for. Our six-month-long relationship came rushing back to me as I stood in a Shiraz-soaked crime scene.
Tommy had once told me I was the clumsiest person he'd ever met. No. That wasn't his exact phrasing.
What he'd actually said was, "Mare, be glad you're so damn fine because you're clumsier than a drunk toddler, which is exactly why I can't bring you around my mates. If you dropped Dingo's guitar or put a hole through Scratch's drums, I'd have to leave you for good." His long, calloused finger slid under my chin, lifting my gaze to his. "And you don't want that, do you?"
I shook my head, desperate to prove I was worthy of him despite my shortcomings. "No, babe. Of course not. I need you."
"You need me?" Tommy's mouth had lifted in a half smile, and his free hand slipped up my skirt. His fingers slid beneath my panty line. "You like how wet I make this tight little cunt, don't you?"
I gasped at his touch, wanting him to want me. Wanting to be what he wanted me to be. His finger toyed with my wetness before rubbing painfully sweet circles around my spot.
"You're such a good little slut for me," Tommy whispered, "and I fucking love it."
"I love you too, babe."
I hadn't seen the manipulation then like I could now. The way he'd put me down and make me feel responsible for his comments. The way he held sex over my head then made me feel guilty about liking it so much. The way he never actually said he loved me.
It was a sick, twisted circle that I was glad to be out of. Yet I'd be lying if I'd said he still didn't have power over me.
In my catatonic state, covered in sticky red wine and unable to meet anyone's eye but Tommy's, Tan swooped in to rescue me.
"Let's get you cleaned up," she said in a forced calm. I nodded, trying to unglue my feet from the floor. Arm and arm, we walked towards DeShauna's master bathroom, as far away from Tommy as possible.
